Wednesday, 24 April 2013
Transiting the Panama Canal
Pacific Ocean (south) to Atlantic Ocean (north)

Although we are not scheduled to go through the first set of locks until 8:15am, I am up for breakfast in my stateroom and a 7am t-shirt sale on the Lido Deck.

All of the forward decks, including the bow, are open, and there is good live narration throughout the day.  Somehow I luck out and find a chair right up against the front railing on the Verandah Deck.  Unlike on other ships, there are no glass panels blocking a clear view ahead and to the sides.  It is very warm and humid . . . but this is the jungle.

There are two sets of locks each ship must pass through as it enters the canal:  the Miraflores Locks take the ship up three steps in about an hour and shortly thereafter the San Pedro Locks continue the raising process with two additional steps.  The ship then enters Gatun Lake (formerly the world’s largest man-made lake), on which sail for several hours, passing the new Centennial Bridge, jungle islands, lush greenery and the Cubrera Cut which anchors the Continental Divide.  Then on to the Atlantic Locks at Gatun, which I visited yesterday, and four steps downward to the Atlantic Ocean (which is higher than the Pacific).
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After exiting the Canal at around 4pm, the guide is just about to wrap up her narration when she spots two crocodiles lolling on a small sandy patch of beach.  The crocodiles were kind enough to pose for me and I promised I would send their photos to Walt Disney and request an audition for the next version of Peter Pan.

Thursday, 25 April 2013
San Blas Islands, Panama

At 7am the Veendam glides into the waters close to the chain of San Blas Islands, both part of and independent from Panama.  This is planned as a brief stop so passengers may tender ashore for an hour—that’s all it takes to see everything on Carti Tupili, the metropolis of the area.  But as I hinted in my previous posting, there are major snafus with the ticketing and tendering process that result in my waiting four hours and getting on the very last tender to the island, only to have the tender’s engine go up in smoke before we leave the side of the Veendam.  We wait for another tender to be prepared and although the Captain allows us some extra time on shore, it is still a very rushed visit.  The island is picturesque if you enjoy watching people living in poverty asking for $1.00 to pose for a photo.  Sympathy rapidly evaporates, however, as you listen to the children running, diving, swimming—all the time chanting, “money, money, money.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is really difficult to get any information about why there was so much delay, but crew members just smile, nod, and ignore your questions.  The next day, however, the Captain makes a long announcement regarding the delays with full apologies.  The first tender had foundered on a reef and only two others were available for use (one has to be kept ready for emergencies).  He checked with local boats for getting passengers ashore, but deemed them not safe (the sea was a little choppy).  Too bad he didn’t offer this explanation while it was happening.  And he never explained my real pique:  why people with later tickets than mine were allowed to tender before others (like me), who quietly waited their turn.

Friday, 26 April 2013
Cartagena, Colombia

Cartagena, located on the Caribbean Coast of the fourth South American country we are visiting, is a beautiful walled colonial city, with balconies over-flowing with flowers, street vendors carrying their wares on their heads, and taxi drivers and touts out to steal the shirt off your back.

We arrive in Cartagena an hour later than scheduled because a propeller had over-headed during the night and the captain had to abate somewhat the cruising speed down from 17.5 knots (for comparison the Queen Mary crosses the Atlantic at 24 knots and the United States holds the speed record for over 40 knots).  There is a free shuttle from the ship to the cruise center, but from there you are on your own getting to the old city (none of the excursions appealed to me).  I stand up on the shuttle and ask if anyone wants to share a taxi.  The first taker is Mrs. Maccione, owner of Le Cirque, but she gets so involved in duty-free shopping that we amicably go our separate ways.  I find a couple from Switzerland, with whom I share a cab ride.  Once there, the old city is very walkable although the heat and humidity are unlike anything I have suffered in a long time—and it’s only April.  Even walking along the top of the fortifications offers no breezes from the sea.  But I plow on enjoying the wonderful old architecture contrasting with the large displays of modern art throughout the city.

Heading back to the ship I do what no tourist should ever do, allow a tout—he claimed he was an American citizen who had lost his passport—to find a taxi for me.  He pays the driver in local currency—I watch the transaction carefully—and I pay him the equivalent $20.  It turns out the driver speaks no English and has no idea where I am going.  He pretends he doesn’t understand my rudimentary Spanish (I do know the words for ship and port), and after a very long ride we end up back where he had picked me up.  At that point I decide to forget the $20 and just get out of the cab.  The driver isn’t happy; I guess he thought he would get more money from me.  So I just hail another cab on the street myself, with a driver who speaks English very well, is dressed in shirt and tie and charges me only $10 for a quick and direct ride back to the pier—in his air-conditioned Mercedes taxi.  At least all I lost was $20 and some time, although the tout did try to get the shirt I was carrying (not literally off my back, at least).

Back at the cruise dock there is a small collection of tiny monkeys and colorful birds for passengers to coo over and the temptation of the air-conditioned duty-free shop.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All in all, I would not have wanted to miss Cartagena.  The people in the city, while constantly asking you to buy unnecessary things, were not obnoxious and quickly took no for an answer (unlike the guide books warn).  But the heat was terrible (my shirt was wringing wet when I get back to the ship) and the taxi drivers need to be controlled.  On board again, I decide to have room service lunch in my stateroom, in my bathrobe, and enjoy a quiet afternoon.

Tomorrow is a sea day and the Mariner’s Brunch (for repeat travelers), which I might try to make at 10:30am.